


Cold Shoulder

by holmesiironman



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, bit of angst, idek, just clintasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:17:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmesiironman/pseuds/holmesiironman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>***ONE SHOT***<br/>The black widow might be formidable and hard to read, but if there was anyone who could melt her ice heart, it was him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Helloo, so I am new to writing smut, but thought I'd give it a go so feel free to give feedback! Thanks! Happy reading :)

She was angry at him. That much he knew. The black widow might be formidable and hard to read, but if there was anyone who could melt her ice heart, it was him. Clint Barton was a master of archery, could fist fight an army and was as sharp as they come. Yet he couldn't for the life of him work his way around women. Especially Natasha Romanov, who for all her brilliance, had one major flaw. She kept herself to herself. Her problems were her problems. And that would be fine... except they'd been dating for 5 years now and well sometimes, it felt like she simply didn't love him enough to share her pain. But that wasn't it at all. Agent Romanov was always taught to be strong, no matter what. Her job required compartmentalization and emotional detachment. As did his. He just wishes she wouldn't bring her stone mask into their relationship.

Sighing heavily, he swung the door of the debrief room open with maybe a little too much force as it slammed against the wall creating a crashing sound, which had all the employers whipping the heads round to glare at him, before typing away again on their little computers. Huffing loudly, he stalked off to go and find his girl, a laborious task in itself. 

3 hours later and soaked to the bone, he stuffed the key into his apartment door, slamming it behind him and flinging his bag containing his suit and weapons onto the couch. Breathing heavily from the 23 flights of stairs (he lived in the penthouse- obviously- and made a vow to never take the elevator), he chucked his keys onto the table by the door and reached around with his other hand to remove his gun from behind his blazer. He could've sworn he had heard a noise. Pulling the gun up and spinning round, he slammed his fist into the light-switch, illuminating the modern apartment. His eyes were immediately drawn to her red hair, before her hand came up to knock the gun from his grasp.

Eyes wide, anger coursed through him. Here she was in his apartment when he'd spent all that time getting soaked to the bone looking for her stupid ass! It was then he noticed the change in her face. Her piercing eyes were swimming ever so slightly with tears. Something so subtle, that the average person wouldn't have noticed, but not him. And not just because he had the sharpest eye sight, but because he loved her with all his heart and KNEW her. He saw them like you see the sun of a clear August morning. They looked so out of place, she was always so strong, and here she was, trying not to fall apart. God that broke his heart. “Tasha--” he whispered gently stroking her face with his thumb, his anger long forgotten. She briefly closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip gently. When she opened them again, the hurt in her eyes was so intense it felt like a punch in the gut. Then she slapped him.

It wasn't that hard. She could knock people out with a slap if she wanted. His cheek stung with the impact of her palm. He didn't have time to react (not that he would've done anything drastic mind) before she was looping her hands around his neck, has grabbing his hair and kissing the corner of his mouth. Was that mewing sound him? “Tasha” he said again, her name rolling off his tongue like a prayer.   
“Don't. You. EVER. Do. That. Again.” her voice was strong, as she emphazied everyword, but he could her the slight waver as she tried to keep it together. Why was she always trying in front of him? A little anger flared up in him again and he was about to say something when she crashed her lips to his, her fingernails scratching at his scalp. He moaned into her mouth, bring his hands instinctively to her waist, he pulled her flush against him. Skimming her tongue along his bottom lip, he granted her access, tangling his tongue with hers, before withdrawing to tug her bottom lip into his mouth. It was her turn to moan now and he opened his eyes to look at her. Her eyelids were heavily with lust, her lips red and slightly swollen. His very own Aphrodite. He couldn't love her anymore if he tried. 

Needing more, she leaned back in, the way he was looking at her, like she was his world made her head spin and sent fresh waves of tears to her eyes. She couldn't lose him. Not now, not ever. Snaking her tongue to meet his once more, she allowed herself to relax. She needed him. Not that she would ever really admit it to anyone because to hell if she needed anyone to survive. But it was her own little secret that she knew she wouldn't survive without him. He made living through the hell she went through worth it. 

Their tongues fighting for dominance, he skimmed his hands down her waist to the top of her jeans, running his hands from his grip on her sides to the middle of her back. He then traced them down to her thighs, lightly squeezing her arse, dragging another moan out of her. Now that was a sound he could listen to forever. Wrapping his hands around her thighs, he lifted her up and crashed her against the wall for leverage. She immediately locked her legs around his hips for support. Deciding he needed his hands for better things he pressed himself flush against her before removing himself from their frantic lip-lock and began to unbutton her shirt, kissing the skin he uncovered as he went. In return, she removed his soaking wet blazer and tie at an expert rate (he didn't really want to think into that one) before crashing her lips back against his own. She devoured him like she needed him to breathe (which she did).

Pushing the shirt off her shoulders and onto the floor, he move his hands to the clasp of her bra, popping it open with expert precision (not something she was in a hurry to know about) letting it fall to the fall before skimming his hands over her pert nipples. Taking his lips once more from her mouth, he began kissing his way to her breasts. With each feather-light kiss he removed another coherent thought from her. And when he took one rosy nipple into the heat of his mouth, she had almost forgotten why she was even angry in the first place. Almost. 

Swirling his tongue around it, he massaged her other breast with his free hand. She was now moaning freely, head lolled back against the wall, occasionally arching her back to get closer to him. Every time this happened, she would grind herself against his hard on- whether this was on purpose or not was unknown- but it was definitely driving him crazy. After one particularly long grind, Clint was weak in the knees and was about to suggest they take this else where so he could get her naked when she dropped her legs to the floor, fisted the front of his shirt and dragged him in the direction of the bathroom. Stopping momentarily, she released his shirt to slip into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of red, before maintaining her grip on him and continuing on their journey. To be honest, it was kind of a turn on how she knew the ins and outs of his apartment as well as his life. 

Once in the bathroom, she stopped at the open door, gestured him to proceed, before shutting the door behind them, her back to him. Then she uncapped the wine, and took a swig. Approaching her from behind, he pressed his hard on into her arse, which made her shiver with pleasure. He began kissing her neck and as much as she loved him, the love making could come later. Right now she needed hot and hard, which she knew he could do just fabulously. With this in mind, she turned around and began deftly unbuttoning his shirt with her nimble fingers, brow creased as she noticed for the first time that he was wet-through. Opening her mouth, question on her tongue, she met his eyes which were dancing with amusement, a smile playing on his lips. She shook her head, trying and failing to suppress a giggle which seemed to wake up something inside him because suddenly his shirt and her jeans were off and they were making out again under the hot shower. Her hands roamed his glorious abs and biceps whilst his began circling her clit in tight circles through her lace panties. 

Her legs buckled as he increased his pace and she ceased the kiss to cuss and moan louder and louder until she could only feel his hand rubbing her and his lips against her neck. The feel of the hot shower rolling down her back had her nearing the edge and when he slipped her panties aside and pushed two fingers into her heat, she was a goner. Practically screaming his name she rode him as hard as she could, pleasure coursing through every inch of her body until she was sure she'd died and gone to heaven. When she came back down to earth, eyes still closed, she realised that he had withdrew his fingers which had her moaning in disapproval. She heard him chuckle, so opened her eyes to see him shucking off his pants (FINALLY) and there it was in all its glory. Her favourite part of Clint's anatomy. Licking her lips, she smirked at him, before removing her own panties. This was invitation enough.

Closing the distance between them, he cupped her face in his hands, moaning into her mouth as her hands rubbed his impossibly hard length. This only made her increase her pace until he was forced to pull away. “Sto-- Stop.” he gasped. She grinned. Shaking his head with a smirk, he grabbed her hips none to gently and pushed her up against the steamy glass wall of the walk in shower. Turning her around so her chest was up against the glass, he began kissing his way down her spine. One hand moved in-between her legs and he began rubbing again. 

Slowly, he pushed his way inside her, filling her completely from this position right up to the root. He was all she could think about. He was still inside her, teasing her until she couldn't take it anymore and began bucking her hips against his, which only made him let out a breathy laugh. Taking the hint, he began a steady pace which had her moaning louder. A sound that echoed in his ears and sent a twitch to his cock. Moving his hand from between her legs, he wrapped it around her waist and she had never felt safer. Pulling her flush against himself, she was at his mercy, un-able to do anything but take him. She was well aware she looked and sounded wanton, but she no longer cared. She only wanted him. Harder. “Harder!” He quickens his pace, sending her closer to the edge. Using his free hand, he cupped her chin and turn her so he could kiss her senseless. Knowing that she was close and needing release from his throbbing cock, he moved the arm that was banded around her so that his palm was splayed across her lower belly and his fingers were touching his clit. She shivered in his arms at the mere brush of skin. Angling his mouth over hers he swallowed her cries, and began applying tight circle movements to her sensitive bud. Quickening his pace once more, he sent her over the edge. Her sex spasmed, pulling him in further and it was when she called his name softly that he stilled, stars eploding behind his eyes, cock throbbing in her heat. Panting heavily, he hugged her to him tighter, kissing her neck as her eyes fluttered shut with shear exhaustion. Both of them were reluctant to remove themselves from each other, but after a few minutes, he pulled out and turned her in his arms so that her head was tucked under his chin, his arms around her waist and her around his chest. 

She sighed contentedly into his muscular chest. Don't get her wrong, sex with Clint was always a dream, he was so loving, selfless, always tended to her needs. Her second best type of sex with him was love making, purely because he made her want to give back, something she'd never really experienced before. They'd stroke each others scars, whispers would be exchanged, hugs, softer kisses and it was bliss. But her favourite sex with Clint was this. The rough, angry, frustration sex that happened so rarely but blew her mind every single time.   
The only con was the after part, where (because it was angry frustration sex) there was always something to talk about. Neither of them liked this part. But they might as well get it over with so they can start on round 2. 

“Clint?”  
“Mmmmhmmm.” His groggy reply sent vibrations through her chest and she hugged him tighter when she felt him kissing the top of her head.   
“Don't ever do that again, do you hear me?” her voice was quiet but firm. It was the voice she'd sometimes use on targets, when she was telling someone to put their gun down or something. It was kind enough, but the warning was there. But he wasn't afraid of her. Well he was... but he'd never admit it, and he knew she'd never hurt him even when she was super pissed. Like now maybe.  
Sighing, he pulled away from her, lifting her chin so their eyes met.  
“You know that I will. Ah ha ah!” he scolded as she opened her mouth to speak.  
“I know that it is my job to complete the mission, and that we agreed with Fury that our jobs will come first so as not to compromise us. Believe me, you don't have to go over that. I've been grilled by the review board all damn afternoon,” he continued through gritted teeth, “however, my most important job, first and foremost, is to keep you safe,” (she closed her eyes with a pained expression, knowing what was coming next she rested her forehead against his) “And I'd do it all over again if it meant I'd never have to lose you. You know I'd die for you.” And there it was. She shook her head, feeling the tears in her eyes and swallowing the lump in her head, she replied:   
“But I don't want you to die for me Clint! I don't want that! You think I can live without you huh? What you think I'm strong enough to live on my own, with out you by my side?” She had pulled back now, and was raising her voice with each word.  
“Tasha.” He tried, voice even and full of sympathy. He always knew when she was falling apart  
“We're a T E A M Clint! We have each others backs and we get the job done. We don't abort the mission because one of us is unconscious! And we certainly don't--” she was interrupted from her rant by his lips on hers. It was a brief but emotional kiss and it took the fight right out of her. It was still a mystery to everyone how one man could so easily pacify the infamous Black Widow, but love is love. And it sure as hell is weird.   
“Would you have done the same? If it was to save me huh? If that was the only way you could think to save me, would you?” Cupping her face once more he looked into her eyes at the tears that were beginning to fall. (Was it bad that one side of him was almost relishing this moment, the raw emotion between them. A feat that occurred so few and far between all their moments that he just couldn't help himself but commit this Natasha- his Natasha- to memory). 

She made no effort to wipe the tears away because she felt more coming the moment she looked into his eyes and saw the hurt seeping through them. She nodded her head, not trusting herself to form a sentence correctly, before pulling him into a soft kiss. Because the black widow might be formidable and hard to read, but if there was anyone who could melt her ice heart, it was him.


End file.
